


The Last Goodbye

by FreyaFenris



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Past Character Death, Post-Camlann, Post-Canon, after camlann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaFenris/pseuds/FreyaFenris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And Arthur isn't coming back. And it’s not sleep that entwines his body now.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I found on my computer lately and have a vague memory of writing in high school. Some translation and changes later, I give you Gwen after Camlann.  
> With the biggest of thanks to the lovely [whydamnitwhy](http://whydamnitwhy.tumblr.com/) for being my beta!

The chamber is too big. The space that, up to this point, seemed barely enough for basic comforts, suddenly is terrifyingly large. It shouldn’t be like this.

 

You’re sitting on your marriage bed and you can’t fathom how this is supposed to be the end.

 

You remember how every time he went away, he smiled at you with his gentle smile. This smile was as characteristic for him as his blond hair, blue eyes, and regal posture. You cannot convince yourself that you won't ever see it again.

 

“Death, death!” chants every atom of air around you and abruptly you cannot breathe. The large space of the chamber starts to close in on you. There is no escape.

 

It’s Leon that saves you from drowning in chaos.

 

You didn’t notice when he came in -- you requested to be left alone. Yet you’re grateful that he's here with you. He places his strong hand upon your shoulder and you gaze at him like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. The kind eyes of your childhood friend tell you, that he will be with you every step of the way from now on, but you don’t know if it’s fair to ask him to give even more, than what he's already given. He lost so much. And yet he's prepared to give you everything that remains.

 

You dismiss him quickly. You don’t want to take what he might regret giving. You don't want to tempt yourself in taking it.

 

He is a knight, yes. Sworn to protect the kingdom. But what is a kingdom without it’s king.

 

The space becomes great and limitless again.

 

A sudden burst of anger takes your entire being and it seems impossible that one person could feel so much. Your anger is directed at Morgause, Morgana, Mordred, every man, woman, and child whose actions brought this wretched day even a step closer. It’s directed at the knights of Camelot, Gaius, and Merlin, and all powers on this earth who couldn’t save him.

 

But more importantly it’s directed at Arthur.

 

Didn’t you say to him to be careful? Didn’t you ask for him to never leave you? Didn’t you say that there are others, that will fight with equal ferocity and lay their lives for Camelot if need be? Didn’t you say that the kingdom needs him? That _you_ need him?

 

Did he listen?

 

He kept putting your pleas out like insignificant sparks, with his gentle smile and soft touch. And then he went to kill and protect in the name of the kingdom, that would take his blood and sweat and never have enough.

 

You remember what he said to you every time just before he left the place you came to call your home. “I love you,” sounded his voice, but you heard it differently: “If something happened to me. If this is the last time I see you. If this is a goodbye.” You remember how much you hated him then and how every confession he made, you met with stubborn silence. You knew that if you said something back, it would mean that you were saying ‘goodbye’ too.

 

And you remember when the last time it mattered, he went away without saying it at all, without as much as a gentle smile or one more look at you. And you were so glad and grateful. Oh, so grateful. Because if he didn’t say goodbye, it meant that he will have to come back to you _._

 

“Death, death!” chants your heart, and suddenly you feel something wet run down your cheek. Confused you realize it’s a tear, that took the moment of your weakness to be born.

 

You look at your thin and well-groomed hand, that for a moment longer is stained by the silver smudge. Unexpectedly you find that what you took for anger was never it to begin with. You realize that what you want most in the world, is to go back in time to that moment before the battle. You want him to come back and say he loved you for the last time. You want to answer back this time, with what you never dared to say before, because of your fear for him. You want a closure.

 

Now you know what you must do. Without what you won’t be able to fight any longer for a cause that took so many lives already.

 

You stand up and with quick steps you go to the place Leon hid it earlier, when he saw you couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

 

There is no retreat. But you don’t seek it.

 

You open the drawer of your husband’s desk and the ends of your hair kiss the surface of the hard wooden surface. For a moment you almost hear his laughter, as he asks if you’re spying on him again. You almost see him peacefully sleeping in your marriage bed and then hear him grumbling, when Merlin makes him wake up and face the day. You almost feel his touch upon your body, when he looks you in the eyes and says it’s going to be alright. You almost-

 

The moment passes and you’re still alone in the chamber. And Arthur isn't coming back. And it’s not sleep that entwines his body now.

 

“Death, death!” chants everything around you, and you realize that you’re standing with your hand reaching out. And yet you were meant to do something.

 

You take his royal ring, the sign of your power as a queen, from it’s resting place. And you put it on, trying to be closer to him.

 

If there were a body, you would place a kiss upon his firm lips. But not the one you would have shared before. The one he gave you. It wouldn’t be soft and fleeting as the wind, it wouldn’t say ‘I’ll come back.’ Instead it would be hard and jealous and possessive, deprived of any trace of tenderness, and it would plead ‘Come back to me. Come back to me, please.’

 

But there is no body. No way for you to reach him this way. No way for you to take away your hot lips from his frozen ones and know for sure that he won’t be coming back. That he won’t listen to your plea _._

 

“Death, death!” chants your soul. “Death, death!” chants the rest of the world.

 

You take his ring to your lips and say so quietly, you can’t even hear it yourself, “I love you.” It falls empty in the dead silence, but you _know_ that wherever he is now, he must have heard you. And maybe in that moment he smiles with his damned smile, like he used to before.

 

You want to think that and you don’t care that the rest of the world would tell you that it’s crazy, that the dead don’t care for the living. You don’t want their opinion, because you know that your husband was never like other men.

 

You straighten up and realize, that you no longer feel the weight that choked and strangled you for so long.

 

The space stops being so unbound and the emptiness you feel decreases a little. It’s enough.

 

You stop being a woman overwhelmed by the enormity of the events and everything that followed, and you start to be the wife of your husband. Yourself.

 

You’re the daughter of Tom the best blacksmith in the whole kingdom, sister of Sir Elyan the knight of Camelot, wife of Arthur Pendragon the king of Camelot, and the Queen. You’re Guinevere.

 

Only after a while you realize that you’re smiling. And you think that Arthur would smile too.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi on [tumblr](http://freyafenris.tumblr.com/).


End file.
